


deep inside i know that you're my destiny

by SkylandMountain1013



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-it fic, Tahiti, but seriously this is all good, maybe a pinch of angst, pure fluff, these two canon lovebirds deserve a soft epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 02:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14740608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylandMountain1013/pseuds/SkylandMountain1013
Summary: Scenes from Tahiti.





	deep inside i know that you're my destiny

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a bit of a fic dump lately, I'm sorry! This muse of mine won't stop going about 130mph. 
> 
> This is for the entire philinda fandom-- what a ride we've had in the past year! Let's keep it going through next summer, okay?

They may have determined that time isn’t fixed- but that didn’t mean it stopped moving forward. Even in paradise.    
  


**two days**

Basic needs are oft forgotten when saving the world, so their first full day is spent mostly sleeping. 

The bed is large and inviting, the windows are open to catch the open breeze, and dress shirts and leather have been replaced with shorts and linen.  

They stretch out next to each other, feet tangling and hands idly roaming. 

She hesitates before pillowing her head on his chest. She wants nothing more than to feel his heartbeat against her cheek- but doesn’t want to bring him any more pain. 

His sleepy eyes focus and become serious. “I’ll let you know if it hurts,” he says.

(It never does.)

When they’re not asleep, they move between the overstuffed chair in the common room, the bench swing on the porch, and the lounge chairs staked into the sand beside the cottage. 

She finds that sitting between his legs with his arms wrapped around her waist is the safest she’s ever felt. He remembers that when she’s caught between sleep and wakefulness she mumbles nonsensical half sentences. They both learn the spots that make the other sigh in contentment. 

In between dozing they talk, the world slowing down enough,  _ finally.  _ She cries as he apologizes for keeping his condition from her for so long. He kneads her shoulders as she admits she really was having the time of her life taking out the goons on Quovas’s ship. They both laugh about the LMD fiasco— neither of them remember why it was such a big deal. 

When night falls, they fall asleep listening to each other’s heartbeat.    
  


 

**four days**

It turns out ocean sex isn’t as fun as it sounds. 

Sex everywhere else though far exceeds expectations. 

 

**seven days**

She doesn’t like to leave him alone. 

She tells him she’s just making up for lost time. He kisses her on the forehead and says it’s cute. 

Neither of them talk about the real reason. (They both know what it is.)

There’s a line he won’t cross though. 

“You’re not following me into the bathroom. No.” He waves his hand in emphasis. 

She’s sitting cross legged on the edge of the bed. “Your dick’s been in my mouth, Phil,” she says bluntly. “I’m not sure what the concern is.”

“It’s different!” His voice squeaks a bit at the end. 

She sighs. “Okay. Fine. I need you to sing or something.”

His eyebrows knit in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t know. Whistle or something.” Her voice is smaller. “If I can’t see you, I need to hear you.” She’s suddenly very interested in the fringe at the edge of the blanket. 

He’s about to protest, to say that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, he’s fully capable of using the restroom like an adult- but he catches her gaze when she looks up and he sees panic in her eyes that he hasn’t seen in days. 

_ Oh.  _

“Okay,” he nods. 

So he starts whistling melodies, humming little tunes, and soon it becomes their own little thing. 

It’s the heaviest game of “Name That Tune” ever. 

He’s humming while washing his hands, tapping his foot against the floorboard. 

“Is that Vanilla Ice? That’s awful, Phil. Awful.”

He turns the water off and calls into the other room. “Under Pressure! Bowie!”

“Same thing,” Melinda mutters. 

He pokes his head around the door and looks indignant. “You’re a  _ monster.” _   
  


**sixteen days**

They’re laying outside at night, her heels digging into the sand, his head nestled in her lap. There’s a slight chill in the air, enough for her to have a light blanket draped around her shoulders. The remaining Haig sits next to them. 

She idly drags her fingers over his forehead and through his hair. It’s a content, comfortable silence. 

“You think they have a lead on Fitz yet?” He pulls her back to this reality. 

Tilting her head to the sky, she sighs. “I don’t know. But Simmons never met a problem she couldn’t solve.”

Her hand drops to rest against his neck. She can feel the vibrations when he talks. “I can’t imagine,” he says softly. “He already has two lifetimes he’s lived- and now he’ll have to learn that there’s a third one he completely missed?”

“I don’t think he’ll miss it that much. Roaches, bounty hunters, dystopian space hell,” she says wryly. 

Phil turns so he’s facing her, nose pressed into her belly. “He’ll have missed his own wedding.” His voice is muffled. “His grandson- although that one is admittedly going to be hard to explain.”

The breeze catches her hair and she rakes it back through her fingers. “I see it as a second chance he didn’t know existed. Another chance to be the person he wants to be. In a way it’s somewhat nice.”

He flips again, returning to his back. He cranes his head up so he can see her. “You think?” 

She shrugs. “Might just be the alcohol talking.”

“Well,” he says, yanking the blanket from her and wrapping it over himself, “whatever happened or happens, I hope Deke is out exploring the world. He deserves it.”

She finishes the bottle of Haig with a long swig. “I just hope he found something better to drink than Zima.”

His laugh reverberates through her.    
  


 

**twenty-five days**

His condition isn’t deteriorating. Maybe it’s even improving.

They don’t talk about it ( _ don’t tempt fate,  _ she says in a whisper one night) but they notice it. 

He’s able to walk the beach for longer. His breathing is steadier in the mornings. Fingers and toes regain feeling and warmth. 

Melinda posits that it’s the lack of stress and the vitamin D that’s helping him heal. 

Phil’s pretty sure it’s all the sex. 

Simmons left them basic medical supplies, and he dutifully sits as Melinda checks his blood pressure and his oxygen saturation. 

It’s remained stable for days now. 

“An apple a day keeps the doctor away,” Phil says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

She rolls her eyes. “That’s the worst euphemism you’ve had for sex yet.”

He curls a finger under the strap of her tank top. “It’s working though, right?”

“No,” she says. But her muscles are already betraying her, and her head lolls back as he nips at her pulse point. 

In one fluid motion he stands and picks her up. Her legs wrap around his waist and his lips are drawn to hers. It’s magnetism. 

They shuffle until he can press her up against the kitchen wall- she grunts at the drywall against her back.

“We gonna do this right here?” she pants.

“Thinking about it,” he growls. He sets her down and immediately starts untying the drawstring of her shorts. 

Her mouth blazes a trail across his neck as his left hand dives underneath the waistband of her panties. 

The vibration setting activates and she screams his name. 

 

**three months**

Melinda can’t pinpoint why this moment is different than any other. 

Phil’s curled up on the bench outside, buried deep in a book he found at the small library in town. It’s a common position for him, spending most afternoons reading and napping in the warm sun. 

There’s nothing special about it, but today is the day she decides to take her phone out of the safe and snap a picture. 

She ponders a moment before opening up a new message. She types in Daisy’s name and inserts the picture. The text is simple-  _ all fine here. tell the team we love them. _

Her fingers tremble a bit as she sends it off. This was never the message she expected to be sending. 

She is so incredibly grateful. 

A response never comes. She watches as three dots appear, linger, then disappear. 

“You okay in there?” Phil calls from the porch. 

She absolutely is. 

Two days later, she hears the unmistakable sounds of the Zephyr flying overhead. (Melinda has flown that damn bird enough to know what it sounds like- even when cloaked.)

It circles twice, but doesn’t stop. 

Somehow it still fills her heart with joy. 

  
  


**seven months**

They finally decide to let Daisy visit. 

Phil’s nervous (although he won’t admit it)- he paces around the house while Melinda tries to ignore him. 

The rumble of the Quinjet snaps him out of his restlessness. He slides on his shoes and heads to the door. 

When Melinda doesn’t follow him, he stops. 

“What’s wrong?

She smiles and shakes her head. “You go, Phil. I’ll be here when you guys get back.”

He takes a moment to process. 

Laughing softly, she steps in front of him. “You’re cute when you’re confused.” She pats his chest. “You two deserve this moment.  _ Go _ .”

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “I really love you.” He feels her smile against him. 

The Quinjet is landed and settled by the time he reaches the beach. The ramp lowers and Daisy starts walking towards him- he meets her halfway and it’s not long before she flings her arms around him. The force of it pushes him backwards and he adjusts to keep his balance. 

He notices she’s shaking and he squeezes tighter, cradling the back of her head with his hand. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he soothes, rocking ever so slightly. 

Daisy buries her nose in his shoulder and he can feel the dampness seeping through the fabric. 

“We have a stupid plaque for you,” is all she can manage between sniffles. 

Phil pushes back. “To be fair, that part wasn’t my idea.”

That elicits a smile, and she turns and wipes her eyes to compose herself. 

“So you guys are good here?” 

He nods. “Yeah. C’mon, I’ll show you around.”

They head to the house where Daisy doesn’t cry again, but hugs Melinda just as fiercely. They cook dinner and show her the best sunset spot on the island. She gives them updates on the team, but keeps it light. 

When she falls asleep on the couch, Phil covers her with a blanket before padding into the bedroom. 

There are promises to stay in better touch, to maybe bring the rest of the team to visit. 

After she leaves they agree that while they’re enjoying their retirement, they’ll always be there for the kids. 

 

**one year**

She’s stuck to a routine this whole time- still getting up in the morning to do Tai Chi. 

He often follows her outside, drinking his coffee (decaf only now) on a towel while she goes through her motions. 

She can feel his eyes on her and so she finishes and turns towards him. 

“How long have you been staring at my ass?”

“Twenty years,” he states plainly. 

“Mm,” she hums. She sits down beside him and grabs her bottle of water. 

He rolls so he’s propped up on his elbow. “We should go somewhere.”

“We’ve been to every part of this island, Phil.”

He rubs his foot against her knee. “No. I mean let’s leave. Go see the world.”

It’s the first time they’ve talked about leaving, but she finds it doesn’t frighten her as much as she thought it would. “You think?”

“Yeah.” He sits up again and grabs a drink from her bottle. “I mean, this was a dying wish sort of thing and I seem to have thwarted that. Again. So why not?”

“Could be dangerous,” she smirks. 

He swipes a kiss across her forehead. “You’ll protect me.”

“The team’s going to want to have us back.”

He shrugs. “So we stop by and visit sometimes. Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

She smiles and thinks of the possibilities. “You might be able to convince me. But breakfast first.”

He follows her back into the house without question. 

  
  


**three years**

They make up for lost time. 

They go check out the food scene in Argentina. He finally reads Ulysses in Ireland. 

In Vancouver, a waiter brings two bottles of Zima to their table. “Complements of the guy at the bar,” says. (No one’s there when they turn around.)

They visit the team when they can. It turns out the world still needs quite of a bit of saving, so Mack and his crew stay busy. 

But they’re there when Fitzsimmons welcomes their daughter into the world. Phil stands in the corner unable to talk, heart bursting with pride. And while Melinda threatens to shoot anyone who calls her grandma, she spends hours with the baby, tickling her feet and nuzzling her belly. 

She still flinches every time he catches a cold. 

He sometimes still wakes up in the middle of the night after nightmares of losing her. 

  
But- together- they both keep  _ living _ . 


End file.
